Compromising Circumstances
by Majestic Moose
Summary: Hermione wakes up one morning to find that she's not in her bed. And whatever bed she's in, someone else is in it, too. Whoever could the other person be?! *Rating for inevitable swearing*


A/N: Yes, I know I should be working on The Old Gang, and I am, I swear! However, the plot bunnies attacked me, and I had to start this one. This note's not gonna be long since I have to go to bed due to school resuming, so goody for you! You don't have to read some A/N that just goes on and on and on. . .Oh, and just like The Old Gang, the title was given absolutely no thought and made up in about two seconds.  
  
Compromising Circumstances  
  
Prologue:  
  
  
Hermione Granger was awoken by sunlight streaming into her bedroom. She didn't even bother to open her eyes as she was still very tired, but made a noise of protest directed at the sun as she rolled over and buried her face in her pillow. This wasn't too cozy, though, as there was something that she must have rolled over pressing uncomfortably against her belly. Still groggy and not thinking too clearly, she sought to remove it, and upon picking it up, she realized she couldn't throw it across the room like she'd planned to. The reason being: it was attached to something that was rather large, warm, and also snoring.  
  
Wait - snoring? Hermione suddenly recognized that something wasn't right here, and she slowly opened her eyes to reveal that she had been lying on top of and was now holding someone's hand. The hand was decidedly masculine, and there was a wedding band on the appropriate finger. She glanced down at her own hand, and sure enough, she was also wearing a wedding ring. Something was very, very wrong here.  
  
Hermione most definitely wasn't in her four-poster that she had gone to sleep in in the Gryffindor sixth-year girl's dormitories at Hogwarts. And whatever bed she was in, she wasn't the only occupant of. She supposed whoever the other person was was her husband, which was wrong in itself as last she'd checked she'd been sixteen and single. She had therefore come to one of her customarily brilliant conclusions in deciding that things had changed a little bit more than they'd ought to have overnight.  
  
Of course, there was still the prospect of the other person in her bed altogether, who'd been getting louder and louder in his snoring since she woke up. She wondered if she'd somehow traded places with her future self, but something about the current situation screamed "spell gone wrong". Besides, she'd never marry someone who snored as obnoxiously and incessantly as he who was sleeping in her bed. This surely could not be the future.  
  
Hermione vaguely wondered what kind of spell could get her to end up in such a frighteningly realistic yet absurd situation, but decided she'd have a time of figuring that out soon enough. Once other, more important questions were answered. Such as the identity of the man who snored louder than it seemed was humanly possible.  
  
Turning towards the man next to her, all Hermione could see was a great big lump under a pile of sheets and blankets. She attempted to pull the covers off of him, but they were securely tucked around his head. In hindsight, Hermione realized that it was a good thing she didn't manage to pull the blankets off--she had no idea what this man slept in, if anything.  
  
So she poked him. He didn't budge. She poked him harder. He stayed an unmoving lump. She jabbed him in the ribs. His response? Nothing. She tried smacking him and punching him, kicking him and even shaking him quite violently. And he still stayed put. Ten minutes she spent trying to wake up her sorry excuse for a "husband", and nothing would rouse him!  
  
Hermione was very frustrated (to say the least) by this point, and decided that she would get the great idiot to wake up no matter what. She took a deep breath, reared back, and pushed the unresponsive git out of the bed and onto the floor. There was a loud thump followed by a very whiney sounding "Owwwwwww..." Hermione crossed her arms smugly and flopped down on the now git-free bed.  
  
"Muuummm! What'd you do that for?" he called out from the floor.  
  
His voice was somewhat familiar, but she couldn't place it and shrugged it off. "I'm not your mum, you twit!" she yelled back.  
  
The man scuffled around on the floor in a panicked manner, and when he spoke it was with extreme offence: "'Mione, what the bloody hell are you doing in the BOY'S dormitories?!" Clearly he recognized her voice. And now she recognized his.  
  
She didn't even have the heart to tell him not to swear. "Unfortunately, we're not in the boys dormitories," she informed him.  
  
"Then where are we?" he questioned sarcastically. There was a whoosh of the blankets being thrown off him, and he stood up allowing Hermione to take in his dishelved but oddly attractive appearance. He was wearing a well-worn white T-shirt with a few holes in it that somehow accentuated his muscles and six-pack. When had he gotten those? His head was cocked adorably to the side, and his hair was mused and sticking up at some bizarre angles. He also had on bright orange boxers with broomsticks all over them. She knew all too well which Quidditch team they were associated with. They clashed horribly with his hair.  
  
"I have no idea where we are, Ron," she admitted lamely.  
  
There you have it! Please review! I'm going to go sleep. 


End file.
